


Proxy

by Valya (grandSolovey)



Category: Far Cry 4
Genre: Cock Worship, Frottage, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-08
Updated: 2014-12-08
Packaged: 2018-02-28 15:46:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2738081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grandSolovey/pseuds/Valya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ajay gets far more than he expected during a meeting with Sabal. It's not entirely a good thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Proxy

When Sabal grabs Ajay by the front of his jacket and roughly shoves him against the wall — not to berate him for not doing enough for the Golden Path, as Ajay might have expected before all this, but rather to push his way into a kiss and grind his hips against him — his first thought is that Sabal had always seemed a little too socially or morally conservative to be into something like this.

Incidentally, it’s also his last — the very last thought that drifts across his mind fully formed, alive and questioning, before the sudden flow of blood to his dick starves his brain of any others that might follow.

If he did have the capacity to keep thinking critically, though, Ajay might be remembering how he’d found it odd that Sabal had insisted upon meeting him at his parents’ homestead, and odder still that he’d insisted upon taking the conversation upstairs. He might have even suspected that Sabal had planned for this from the very start. But as things are now, with Sabal’s tongue in his mouth and hands on his chest and thigh rutting hard between his legs, the only thing Ajay can remotely think about is how he’s barely found the time to get himself off since he left the States, much less find someone else to do it for him.

The first thing that breaks through the haze of how fucking _good_ it is to have hands on him again is the realization that those hands are pulling at his clothes, and soon after that comes the realization that he could damn well be doing the same. He pushes back against Sabal’s solid weight, slips his hands beneath the man’s jacket to splay down the length of his torso, reaches with fumbling fingers for the buttons of his thin shirt — and in the time it takes him to do all of that, Sabal already has Ajay’s own jacket and the hoodie beneath unzipped and pulled roughly aside, all the better for him to break from Ajay’s mouth and suck a line down his exposed neck.

“Oh, fuck...”

The words come out in a shaky exhale as Ajay tips his head back, letting the sensations of Sabal’s hot mouth and biting teeth and scratching stubble overtake him in turns. Everything’s happening so quickly, he’d be embarrassed if he wasn’t already so turned on — if his jeans weren’t growing tighter by the second, if he couldn’t already feel the heat of Sabal’s own erection pressed hard against his leg... Fuck, he needs this so badly, he can’t stand waiting another second for it.

“Come on—”

Ajay pushes off from the wall, pushes until his shoulders and back have enough clearance for him to finally start stripping off his outer layers, and before he has even the chance to say anything else, Sabal has his lips planted firmly against his all over again. Not that Ajay has much mind left at all to say anything worthwhile; no, at this point, he’s just fine with making himself heard with a low, pleading groan as his lips part to Sabal’s searching mouth.

The kiss breaks soon after that, when Sabal’s hands start to pull at Ajay’s t-shirt, and it’s all he can do to oblige by taking the damn thing off. But the moment he pulls the shirt up and over his head, leaving him temporarily blinded to his surroundings, is the very same moment that Sabal roughly grabs Ajay by the abdomen and shoves him away.

“Shit!”

He stumbles back until his legs catch the edge of his bed, and he falls onto it with an undignified _oof._ It’s not until after he’s done wrestling with the shirt and tossed it aside that he hears Sabal’s soft laughter.

“So eager to let your guard down, brother...”

Ajay might have a retort for that, but the feeling of cool air against his skin and his cock still straining against his pants keep any words from coming to him. The sight of Sabal as he approaches, shrugging out of his jacket and the shirt beneath, doesn’t help much either.

Fuck, he _needs_ this.

He doesn’t waste another second before he reaches down to unzip his jeans, squirming to get them down his hips as fast as humanly possible. Sabal laughs again, but the sound is distant to Ajay’s ears, all but inaudible past the sensation of his swelling dick finally pulling free; more immediate, much more immediate is the feeling of Sabal taking hold of him by the ankles and tugging his boots off, one after the other, then finishing the job by pulling off his pants the rest of the way.

If there was room for even a single rational, logical, coherent thought in Ajay’s head, he might consider that this might just be the craziest thing he’s done in Kyrat so far. He might start to have doubts over the whole thing. But the hard lines and lean muscle of Sabal’s wiry frame are all that fill Ajay’s field of view, and any last whisper of reason in his mind is soon overwhelmed by the rising din of _want_ and _need._

Ajay tilts his head back, lifting that field of view to Sabal’s face — to the newly hard set of his jaw, to the scar that slices across his brow, to the intense look in his green eyes that’s nearly goddamn electric until Sabal pulls his gaze away with a shake of his head.

“Far too eager for this, perhaps.”

“You started it,” stammers Ajay, but without enough volume or conviction for it to be much of a protest. Even if he’d wanted to protest, the way Sabal runs his hands over Ajay’s spread legs, smoothing the callused pads of his fingertips over the insides of his thighs, would very quickly turn him around.

He watches Sabal past his own heaving chest, watches him kneel down, and only when one of those hands finally reaches his cock does Ajay finally make another sound: a quiet, keening _groan_ that would be nothing short of humiliating if he weren’t getting exactly what he goddamn needed. For all the roughness of Sabal’s hands, he rubs Ajay with a light, tentative touch, one that Ajay might call _delicate_ if the word was one he’d ever think to apply to the man. Not that he can think much at all right now, anyway, when that touch is only winding him up tighter and tighter.

Vaguely, he hears Sabal speak — soft, murmured words that Ajay can’t understand, can barely even hear at all, but he feels them in hot puffs of breath against his cock, only to be followed by Sabal’s lips, and then his tongue, and oh, _fuck_ , it’s too much now for him to keep watching. He throws his head back with a sharp gasp as he feels Sabal drag that tongue over his length, as he feels the man’s stubble catch against his skin, as he feels a hand wrap tightly around his dick and work him in long, slow strokes while Sabal closes his lips on him and sucks...

“Oh, _fuck..._ ”

Ajay starts to jerk his hips, but the unyielding grip of Sabal’s hand on his thigh holds him firmly in place. The other hand is still on his dick, still rubbing him in a slow rhythm while Sabal makes up the difference with his mouth, bobbing down and sucking hard with each pass. When he finally pulls up, catches his lip on the tip of Ajay’s cock and sucks in a few deep breaths, he doesn’t waste a second before he runs his tongue over him again, licks a wide stripe up his underside and laps at the head of him.

Fuck, Ajay can’t not watch him now. He lifts his head to do just that, only to realize that Sabal is looking right back at him.

The look in his eyes is more than electric this time around; it’s beyond intense, and there’s a heaviness in his stare that both stills Ajay and sends all his want and need soaring to entirely new heights.

But Sabal breaks the moment by looking away just as quickly as before. No, no — Ajay can’t let this be. He needs _more_ , he _needs_ it.

“Come on...”

He pushes the words out with another shaky breath as he reaches down for Sabal, grasping at the man’s wrist. Sabal’s response is to first look down at Ajay’s hand, then back into his eyes, until he finally drops his gaze again.

“Come _on—_ ”

Evidently, though, his mind is made up: before Ajay can plead any further, Sabal climbs up onto the bed, plants his knees on either side of Ajay’s hips, and stops only to undo his own pants before he leans down to push his way into another kiss.

Somehow, it’s all even more intense than before. Sabal’s lips are swollen and hot against his, and the slide of their tongues has nearly nothing on the press of Sabal’s chest against his own. His dick is already missing the attention from Sabal’s mouth, but the sheer level of contact he’s feeling right now, the solid body for him to grind up against all over again, is almost enough to make up for it.

“Fuck...” It’s the first thing to come out of Ajay’s mouth when Sabal breaks from the kiss to suck at his neck again, and he couldn’t keep from repeating himself if he even bothered to try. “Fuck, _fuck_ , oh, _fuck..._ ”

Sabal’s saying something as well, more murmured words Ajay can’t understand, but he doesn’t lift his head to let himself be heard. He keeps his voice muffled against Ajay’s throat instead, and keeps it that way even as he reaches between them to take both of their dicks in hand and stroke them together.

“Oh _fuck!_ ”

There’s nothing to stop Ajay from jerking his hips this time, and he rocks up into the touch with as much desperation as he can muster. It’s so good, it feels _so_ good, the heat and the friction and the weight bearing down on him all at once, and it’s almost more than he can take. His hands are grasping at Sabal again, scrabbling for any kind of purchase against the long expanse of his back; one of them comes to rest at the back of Sabal’s head, clutching and pulling until Ajay’s fingers tug his ponytail loose and wind into his hair.

Sabal groans at that, the sound of it rumbling low and deep into Ajay’s very bones, and starts to pump their dicks in fast, rough jerks. Ajay can’t stop himself now, can’t stop the moans and obscenities and noisy gasps that let loose from his throat, can’t stop the coil of sheer pleasure in his groin from winding tighter and tighter until it threatens to _snap_ , he can’t _stop..._

And then, not a moment too soon, he comes undone: Ajay’s orgasm spills out of him with an unrestrained cry, rolling in waves that arch his back and jerk his hips with the force of it, and his heels dig into the bedspread as he struggles to keep his head above water.

He’s left heaving for breath, still clutching tightly at Sabal, still rocking weakly into his hand, as he starts to come down from it all. Some long moments pass before Sabal finally draws his hand away and pushes himself upright, leaving Ajay with the dim realization that, if the man’s unflaggingly erect cock is any indication, he hasn’t come yet.

Well — even with the haze of afterglow still heavy in his mind, Ajay can damn well take a hint.

He wraps a hand around Sabal’s dick and slowly, tentatively, inexpertly begins to stroke him. Ajay gains another low groan for his efforts, even more murmured words that are barely intelligible, and Sabal’s head drops back as he rolls his hips with the movement of Ajay’s hand.

There’s something about the sight of him like this that’s unbelievably gratifying to Ajay, even though he’s already gotten off. He can only imagine how intense it’d be if he could actually look him in the damn eye again.

The thought makes him quicken his pace, tighten his grip — he wants to see Sabal come, and he wants it right now more than anything else. Sabal doesn’t miss a beat, doesn’t stop jerking into his hand for even a second, but Ajay can hear by the tone and quake of his voice, by his rising volume, by his quickening gasps that he’s getting closer and closer, until finally he cries out—

“ _Mohan—_ ”

Ajay feels Sabal’s come spilling over his hand and splashing his chest long before he has the presence of mind to process what he’s just heard. Even then, when the realization settles upon him with all its weight, he hasn’t a single goddamn clue as to what he should do about it.

In the deafening silence that follows, broken only by Sabal’s deep, heavy breaths, neither one of them moves a muscle — until Sabal tips his head forward, keeping his gaze firmly fixed on the ground.

“Son of...Mohan.” He licks his lips before he continues: “That’s what...I was...”

Ajay is still too dazed to consider whether he should believe or disbelieve him. All he can manage in reply is a quiet murmur: “Okay.”

Slowly, Sabal extricates himself from the scene, pulling away from Ajay’s hold and getting his feet back on the ground. His eyes are still cast determinedly downward as he zips himself up, gathers the rest of his clothes off the floor, and rakes a hand through his hair until it’s something approaching neat.

Meanwhile, all Ajay can do is awkwardly prop himself up on his elbows and watch.

“Keep an open channel, brother,” says Sabal as he turns to leave. “You will hear from me when I need you again.”

“Sure.” It’s all he can think to say.

Sabal doesn’t say another word, doesn’t look back for a single second, before he finally leaves. Ajay remains as he is until he hears the door downstairs open and shut, when he lets himself fall back and stares up at the ceiling.

Eventually he comes to the conclusion that, first things first, he should do something about the sticky mess he’s made of himself. After that, maybe he can start to unpack just what he thinks about any of this — assuming nobody’s shooting at him by then, which doesn’t seem unlikely given everything he’s been through over the past several days.

Hell, at this rate, being shot at almost sounds like the better option. After all, at least Ajay knows what to do whenever _that_ happens.


End file.
